Dead hearts are everywhere
by StardustToRememberYouBy
Summary: "She wondered where they would be if she hadn't known the information she did. She wondered who all wouldn't be standing in their motley little group, as well as who would be dead. She pondered all of those still in Atlanta, including the two missing Sumner siblings. Truly, though, one question rattled her brain and dizzied her senses: where do we start?" Eventual Rick/OC. Review!
1. The Outbreak

**A/N: **This idea has been swimming around inside my head for a long time, and finally, I have arranged my thoughts into one cohesive idea! I'm hoping you, as a reader, will enjoy this! I own all characters save for the ones you know from The Walking Dead. I do not own Kirkman's interpretation of the outbreak, but all original characters in this story belong to me. I hope you'll enjoy!

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Jenna Sumner was a direct descendant of Charles Sumner, a man who had been nearly caned to death for his abolitionist ideals during the Civil War. She wore the name proudly and as an advocate for history and for historical weaponry like her father before her, Jenna was almost always found taking care of some kind of weapon or, at the very least, managing her father's shooting range and survivalist classes.

Her nimble, able fingers trailed lightly over the writing on the etched inscription on the heel of the weapon in her hands. Loose tendrils of her long, dark hair framed her face lightly, a sure sign that perhaps she had been working a bit longer than her husband approved of. Such was proven the moment he stepped into her darkened study, leaning his shoulder against the door frame.

"Doesn't that one lamp hurt your eyes?" he asked, his hand circling the plate in his hand with the dish towel in the other.

Jenna shook her head, her icy shades flashing up to meet his similar gaze before she returned to her work. "I can't risk the artificial light endangering the labeling on this gun," she explained, "especially with the chemicals I'm using to treat the wood." Her husband continued to watch her, his eyes studying her for a moment. Jenna smirked, straightening her spine as she screwed the cap back onto the bottle beside her. "What's that look for, Scott?"

Scott chuckled. "I admire your work. Here I am doin' dishes and you're handling old rifles like they've been dipped in the blood of Jesus."

Jenna shot him a look and shook her head gently, the lowest several inches of her ponytail draping over her shoulder. "I wouldn't go _that_ far, but it is my work. I take it seriously."

"To a fault, I'd say." Scott turned and crossed back into the kitchen area.

Jenna soon followed him, closing the door to her study behind her. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Her tone was questioning and her arms folded across her chest in a more defensive manner.

Scott placed the dish in his hands into the cabinet with all of the other clean ones before slinging the dish towel over his shoulder and walking over to where she was practically glaring at him. "Jenna, our daughter is upstairs sleeping. How do you think it is for her to have all these weapons around all the time? To see her mother with a handgun strapped to her hip, a knife hilted to her ankle? How do you think she's coping with the fact that ever since she was little, you've taken her to survival classes instead of dance classes? You put that on her. _You_ did that to our little girl."

Jenna nodded, knowing that all of that sounded so very close to what her own father had done to her when she was growing up. She also knew that nearly every time she and Scott had this argument, it was always the same. "There's a method to the madness. The need to survive is something she has to know how to do. She has to be ready just in case."

"In case of what - a fucking armageddon?" Scott yelled, turning his head and shushing himself - or, rather, shushing some unseen being.

"Scott?" Jenna's eyes went wide and her hands held her husband's face, turning him back to face her as a fit began. "Scotty? Did you take your pill today?" He didn't answer, his lips mumbling as he continued rambling to the voice in his head. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed the pill case she kept there and removed one of them, turning Scott's face to her and forcing a pill between his teeth. "Swallow it. Swallow. Come on. I'm here. You're here. No one else is here, love. Just us."

Scott's breathing slowed a bit, his eyes opening and his gaze meeting hers as he stabilized his hands on her hips. He suffered from a debilitating schizophrenia, a kind that pushed him into fits, fights and arguments with the voice in his head.

Jenna pressed her forehead to his for a moment before patting his cheek and backing away. "Good thing I keep that case on-hand." She refused to continue arguing with him, especially not where their daughter was concerned. She was still young, still uncorrupted, and Jenna planned to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Fights like that were common between Jenna Sumner and Scott Whitby, stemming as far back as their wedding day. Jenna hadn't wanted to take his last name, and given how botched their relationship was anyway, it seemed too much to ask that their names be joined, too.

Still, she stuck by him, convinced that she was more of a help than a hindrance. With his condition, she wanted to help him and if it weren't for her, she knew he'd forget to take his medication more often than he'd remember, and she wasn't wrong about that.

Scott returned to washing the dishes and Jenna finished detailing the musket rifle in silence. Neither said another word to the other for quite some time following Scott's medicinal catch-up. What could they say that hadn't been said a hundred times over?

It was dark in their neighborhood when Scott turned on the news from the living room. Jenna was putting the rifle back into its case when Scott called out to her.

"Jenna? Someone's here."

Jenna wiped her hands of the grease and left her study, moving into the living room to see Scott opening the front door. Her brother, Merrill burst into their home, quickly closing the door behind him. "Merrill, what the hell?" Jenna asked of him, noticing that he seemed out of breath.

Merrill was tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and had lightly-tanned skin on his nicely-toned frame. He was frantic in this moment, and Jenna knew something must have really perturbed him.

"You watchin' the news, Scott?" Merrill asked of his brother-in-law, who nodded and turned the volume up so that they could hear it.

_"...riots broke out in the downtown streets of Atlanta tonight as a large group of people referred to as 'the infected' made their way into the streets. The gore they inflicted on unsuspecting citizens is unthinkably tragic and much more than we are allowed to air. We do, indeed, have footage of one of these infected folk ripping into the abdomen of a passerby on the street tonight - "_

"What the hell is she talking about?" Scott asked of Merrill.

Merrill raked his fingers through his hair, turning his sights to his sister. "Remember a few weeks ago when we were watching the news and they talked about people in local emergency rooms being admitted with really strange symptoms?" When Jenna nodded, he continued. "Those are the people she mentioned as 'infected.'"

"Are these people contagious?"

Merrill nodded. "Extremely. Doctors said that one bite or scratch from these people will slowly kill the victim and then...they die. The problem is that they don't really die."

"What do you mean?" Jenna asked, watching as Scott turned the television off. As soon as the droning sound of the news had been lifted from their ears, silence consumed the house, but was quickly pierced by a shrill scream from down the street.

Merrill darted to the front door, peering out the glass. "Oh, my God," he mumbled, shaking his head. "It's starting."

"_What's_ starting-what's happening?" Scott said, becoming frantic.

Jenna could tell from her brother's statement that the time to survive had come. Everything that they had ever been raised to know was now relevant. "The end," she said in response to her husband's question. She turned to face him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Scott, I need you to go and help Merrill grab the supplies from the garage and load the SUV, please."

Scott glanced at his brother-in-law before nodding at his wife. "What about you?"

"I'm gonna wake Caroline and get clothes and essentials packed from upstairs. I need you to help him get the car packed and ready to go. Do not open the garage door until we're all in there and ready to leave." Quickly turning on her heels, she rushed up the stairs, her brother's voice calling out behind her.

"Hurry and get your shit - we've gotta get outta here _now_!"

Jenna rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, whipping open the door to her daughter's bedroom. "Caroline? Caroline, wake up now, baby." She leaned over her child's bed, lifting her shoulders from the mattress as her thirteen-year-old daughter's long, blonde lashes fluttered in a signal that her eyes were opening.

"Ma?" Caroline muttered groggily, blinking rapidly in her attempt to wake up. "What's wrong?" She sat up, her hands grasping her mother's forearms.

"Baby, do you remember all those classes you took at my work, all the ones that taught you how to pack a knapsack in case of an emergency?" Caroline nodded, her brow scrunched in confusion. "I need you to do it now, okay? Get up and grab your backpack. Pack it and hurry back downstairs."

"Ma, what's going on?" Her voice was frantic and Jenna wanted to calmly explain, but there was no time. Perhaps once they were clear of their neighborhood she could shed some light on their dark circumstance, but for the present time, Caroline must be kept in the dark.

"There's no time for that now - we'll explain once we're on the road, okay?" Jenna kissed her daughter's forehead before rushing from the room. She moved into the master bedroom, grabbing her sea-bag and beginning to empty her sock and undergarments drawer into it. As far as clothing and outwear was concerned, she had a whole dresser set aside for simply that. Cargo pants, denim capris, standard t-shirts, cotton socks, and moleskin for her shoes were all soon shoved into the sea-bag. Jenna pulled on her black, steel-toed military boots and grabbed the other pairs of shoes as well.

Her sights caught the stare of her jewelry box, causing an inward debate to begin over whether or not it mattered that she even sifted through it. Regardless of her inhibitions, she pulled out the small drawers of it and grabbed her grandmother's rings, handkerchiefs, and that's when she glanced up at her reflection in the vanity mirror. A photo was tacked there, one that her mother had taken on their family road trip to Maine. Her mother had fallen in love with the Blue Ridge Mountains of Northern Virginia, and had snapped a picture of the morning fog where it settled in the valley.

Jenna's chin quivered at the memory, her thoughts extremely fond of that trip with everyone. She grabbed the photo, folded it gently, and shoved it into her front left pocket before slinging the strap of her bag over her shoulder and beginning the dump of her husband's clothing into his own pack.

"Ma?" Caroline said from the doorway. Jenna glanced up at her daughter, noting how she was dressed. Before, all she had been wearing was a rather large t-shirt, but now she looked awake, had put on a fresh t-shirt, jeans, a jacket tied around her waist, and was wearing her high-top Converse. She was very proud of her daughter in that moment, realizing that she had taken her training well. "Are we coming back here?"

Jenna shook her head, stuffing clothes into the pack before attempting to fasten it. "No, sweetie, I don't think we will," she said honestly. "Not for a while, anyway."

Caroline nodded, shifting her bag's straps on her shoulders. "I'm ready."

"I know you are." Flashing her a temporary smile, Jenna rushed over to her daughter and ushered her down the stairs, the screams and noises from the street now much more rampant.

"What's happening out there?" Caroline asked, her voice cracking in a frenzy.

"Let's get to the garage." She took Caroline's smaller hand into her own, moving quickly through the house to get into the garage. There, she could see Scott and Merrill still packing the SUV, but they were nearly done. "Get in the car, baby." Caroline did as she was told without question.

"I'll sit in the back - " Scott suggested, taking his bag from his wife.

"I need to be up front anyway. The backseat windows are thicker and safer, and in the front, I can see in case I need to..."

"...need to _what_?"

Jenna sighed, pulling her 9 millimeter out of its holster on her hip, loading the chamber and making certain that it was fully-loaded. "I think you know."

Scott's eyes went wide and he shook his head. "Jen, _no_."

"I will if I have to, Scott, and you can't stop me. Merrill and I are both licensed, but I need him to drive us."

"Jenna - "

"We need to get out of here," Merrill called as he slipped into the driver's seat.

"We're done discussing this," Jenna said, turning to hop into the car. Her husband moved into it beside their daughter, coddling her to bring her closer to himself.

"I dunno how this neighborhood is gonna look once we open that door. Can't go back after this."

"Do it."

Merrill nodded, gripping the wheel and turning the key in the ignition. Reaching upward, he pressed the button to the garage door and the four of them watched in stunned silence as it raised, revealing the chaotic state of their neighborhood.

"Oh, my God," Jenna muttered at the sight of their neighbors darting to and fro along the dimly-lit streets. Screams echoed and pierced through the thick glass of their vehicle. Everywhere there were people running and as Merrill locked the doors and pulled out of the driveway, several bodies lay strewn across various lawns.

"Are they dead?! Are people _dying_?!" Caroline asked, a meek whine coursing through her voice as her father pulled her into himself a bit tighter.

"Just hold onto your father, baby," Jenna encouraged, reaching back to squeeze her daughter's knee. "It'll be okay."

"No, it won't be," Merrill said grimly, forcing a look from his sister beside him. "Don't fucking lie to her, Jay. Nothing's okay anymore, Cee."

"Merrill!?" Jenna shouted, half because he had spoken so bluntly to his niece and half because of the fray in their streets.

Merrill braked as a man rushed up to the driver's side window to the car, pounding a fist against the glass.

"Open the door!" the man said, his face contorted in his own aggression. "C'mon, man. Unlock the fucking car - I've gotta get outta here!"

"Ma...?" Caroline whined.

"Merrill," Jenna said, her voice remaining as calm as she could possibly let it be, "we need to leave...now. Don't look at him. Look straight ahead."

"Ma - "

"It's alright, baby." Jenna reached back and squeezed her daughter's hand, feeling the nimble digits tremble within her grasp. "Merrill...drive."

Merrill sighed, gripping the wheel as he pressed on the gas, quickly driving them down the street and away from the man who was screaming after them. Once they were free of the debris, all heaved a sigh and settled into their seats properly. Scott continued to keep his daughter within his arms.

"Where to?" Merrill asked, briefly glancing at his sister.

"We need to get to Da's collection office," she answered.

"You realize that'll take us into the heart of the city, right? You _do_ realize that vagrants and hopeless people will be swamping this car once we're there, _right_?"

"Dammit." She slammed her clenched fist onto her lap. "Don't talk down to me, brother. I _know_ what a risk it is, but we will suffer out there if we don't - we need weapons and ammo, and where better than Da's collection? He trusted it to me, and I say, let's put 'em to use."

It was at that moment that a rather obnoxious ringtone sounded its muffled cry from the glovebox. Jenna opened it and removed her sat-phone. It was a rather large device, but it was known to work pretty well.

Opening the mouthpiece, Jenna raised the phone to her ear. "Hello?" she said.

"Jay, dear - I'm glad to hear yer voice."

It was their father.

Jenna exhaled deeply. "Da," she said, placing a hand on her chest, "oh, my God. Where are you?"

"Where're _you_? Yer brother said ye were comin' ta get me from the citeh."

"We're almost to Atlanta now, Da. We're coming right to you - we need to stock up."

He was suddenly silent and Jenna grew frantic.

"Da?"

"Jay...I tink those _things_ have gotten inside the walls."

"We'll be there soon - Merrill and I are armed. We'll get you outta there, Da."

"...darlin', I don't tink ye'll be here in time fer that."

"Don't say that - "

"It's the truth. Is Caroline wit ya?"

"Yes. She's here. Scott, too."

"Jay...don't come here. Yer...it's too dangerous...get out..."

"Da?" Jenna said into the receiver, but the line glitched and cut out on her. The connection to their father was lost, and now Merrill was slightly panicky.

"What did he say? What happened? What's happening there?" he rambled.

"He said something about the 'things' getting inside the walls." She turned her gaze to her brother. "Did he mean the infected people?"

"Infected people?" Scott repeated. "Like the stories on the news?"

"Did they get Grand-Da?" Caroline blurted.

Jenna shook her head rapidly, turning around to face her daughter. "Baby, we're gonna do everything we can to make sure that didn't happen, okay?" She gave Caroline's knee a squeeze, not at all surprised when she felt the smaller, nimbler fingers grasp ahold of hers. She held on tightly, facing front when they entered the city limits.

"Oh, my God," Merrill breathed, leaning towards the steering wheel. All eyes peered out at the usually bustling streets of Atlanta, now emptied for the most part, save for a few, frantic souls sprinting through the flickering shadows of the alleyways.

"I've never seen the city look like this..." Scott said, and rightfully so. He was an Atlanta native and had never lived anywhere else in his life, so if he commented that the city had never looked like that, he wasn't lying.

"We'll be in and out of the collection as quickly as possible, but we do need to gather weapons," Jenna mentioned as softly as possible.

"Oh, shit..." Merrill said, braking the car to a controlled stop as the headlights settled on a commotion up ahead. A small group of what appeared to be humans were hunched over a lifeless body. Blood pooled around the corpse and stained the hands, faces, and clothes of the figures looming around the crumpled body. Dismantling of the body began with one of the figures grabbing a hold of a finger and biting it completely off. A dark shade of blood spurted across the lips as the figure consumed the detached digitalis.

"Ma..." Caroline wheezed, clutching the lapels of her father's shirt.

"Merrill, get us the hell out of here!" Jenna said, watching as her brother shifted the car into reverse and turned around, heading down a different street to get away from the huddled horror they had just witnessed.

"What the fuck _was_ that?!" Scott yelled. "Is that what the news was talking about? Is _that_ what the damn 'infection' does to you?!"

Merrill gripped the steering wheel in a white-knuckled bearing. "I don't know. I think so. I'm guessing that's what's going on and what's spreading."

"Merrill, those things must be what Da was talking about," Jenna added, rubbing her temples. "Shit, they're inside the office."

"You're armed, right?" Scott said. "You're not going in there unless you are."

"Yes, Scott, we're both armed."

Merrill put the car in park just outside the front entrance to the office. "Scott, do you have a weapon?" When his brother-in-law shook his head, he gestured to the bench seat he was sitting on. "Check under the seat. There's a Glock there that'll suit you pretty nicely if you need to use it."

Scott removed the Glock, eyeing it like it was a foreign object. "I don't know how to use this," he admitted.

"I do, Dad," Caroline interjected, taking the weapon from his hands and properly checking the slide and to make sure the chamber was loaded and the safety was off.

"Caroline, no. You're not gonna use it - "

"It's okay." Her tone was unusually calm, something that Jenna hadn't really expected. "Ma taught me how to use it. If we need it, I can do this."

Scott flashed Jenna a sharp expression, but she ignored it, turning her sights to her nine-millimeter.

"I've got two full clips, and one locked and loaded," she said to Merrill as he, too, loaded his gun.

"I don't like the look of this - " Scott said with a disapproving shake of his head.

"Scott - " Merrill snapped before his sister gripped his forearm knowingly.

"We'll be in and out. No worries." Jenna faced Caroline. "Keep an eye out for the infected people, okay? We'll turn off the headlights and switch the car off so it won't draw unwanted attention." She gave her daughter a gentle smile before unlocking her door and stepping out of the car. Merrill followed her to the front door of the building, eyeing the streets and sidewalks around them to make sure that they weren't seen.

"Got a flashlight?" Merrill muttered.

Jenna nodded, switching it on and clicking it to a self-made clip on top of her weapon prior to pushing open the door and heading inside. She hadn't needed the key since the door appeared to be broken into, a sign that made a lump form in her throat.

Merrill stayed close behind her as they made their way down the corridors of the main floor. The darkness of the hallways they entered through was extremely ominous, which was certainly helped along by the flickering of the lights above their heads and the shadows of the setting sun. Staying within city limits with riots all around and with infected beings roaming the streets was not only not an option, but it was a stupid move. They needed to find their father and get him out with as much weaponry and ammunitions as they possibly could, and they needed to do it quickly.

Rounding the final corner near the main offices, Jenna held up her hand to signal for Merrill to stop. Their father's office was nearby and the door was open, which was definitely not a good sign. The duo knew that their father was the kind of businessman who was rarely seen, never available, and always kept his office door closed, even during business hours for the collection museum.

The sounds they heard coming from inside the office perturbed Jenna to no end. They were awful, gut-wrenching, crunching noises quickly followed by soupy slurps that chilled the Sumner siblings to their very cores. Slowly rounding the corner, Jenna's eyes set sights on their father's body and on the figure hunched over him.

The figure appeared to belong to Lena Bodnewski, their father's personal secretary. Her skirt seemed torn and a lump of coagulated blood clumped on the side of neck. It appeared as though a large bite had been taken out of her neck and, judging by the size of the wound, she was obviously infected. If all of that had not been proof enough, the fact that she was currently ripping the flesh from Phineas Toole's spinal column and stuffing into her graying, blood-stained mouth _was_.

"Oh, God," Jenna breathed and Lena - or, rather, the monstrosity that had infected her - turned to face her, the sharpness of her dead, icy eyes raising the hairs on the back of Jenna's neck as they stared, unblinking, directly into her eyes. She raised her weapon to Lena, hoping that the now-infected facts-filer would back down, but, given the breadth of the infection, that was not about to happen.

Lena's body twisted and turned as she stood to her knees, arms outstretched and strange, out-of-this-world snarls escaping her drawn-back, gnashing lips. Jenna backed up a step and took a shot at Jenna's torso. The bullet pierced her body and sailed directly through the body and, ultimately, did not stop her. She continued moving towards the siblings and Jenna was forced to push the averagely-sized, infected body off of her as she was forcefully attacked.

"Merrill, do something!" Jenna grunted, avoiding contact with Lena's widened and terrifying mouth.

Merrill observed the ground around their father, noting that he was lying face-down on the carpet. Near his hand was a phrase he had written in blood. The message: "to the head." Whipping around, Merrill took a shot directly at Lena's head, glad that his sister had been wise enough to move her head in time. Blood splattered across the side of Jenna's face and onto her denim jacket as she felt Lena's body go completely limp and silence ensued. Jenna pushed the corpse off of herself and stood with her brother's assistance.

"Are you alright?" he asked, scanning her surfaces for signs of bites or scratches.

Jenna nodded, heavy breathing subsiding as she began doing her own quick scan of the room. "How in the hell did you know what would stop her?"

Merrill moved over to the message, gesturing down at it. She took a gander and smiled softly. "Just like him - he can't even go without leaving something helpful behind." Crouching down until she was on one knee, she gently pushed the straggling hairs away from her father's eyes before gently closing them. "Love you, Da."

Merrill sniffled a bit and glanced out the window. "Light's fading fast. We need to get our shit and leave."

Jenna nodded, wiping away the tear that had escaped her eye. She stood, immediately making a run for the collection display room, the place wherein those who were interested in seeing what findings the Sumner clan had made could truly observe them. "I have a specific few in mind - you go for the ammunitions. Grab whatever you can." Her brother headed off while Jenna broke the glass cases containing the most useful medieval weapons - a battle axe, a double-bit battle axe, a two-hundred-year-old kukri blade, a spear, a scythe, a chained mace, and, her personal favorite: a flanged mace. Rushing off, she met up with Merrill in the ammunition stores. "What did you find?"

"Generic rifle rounds, several boxes of shotgun shells, a bag of rifles and shotguns, a couple of pistols, a Beretta with a few clips left, and a shit-ton of nine-mil' bullets that'll fit most of the handguns we've got on us and in the car."

"Great." She shoved a few boxes into her satchel and nodded her head towards the door. "We need to go - now." Merrill followed her as they took off towards the main entrance. They spotted two infected folks by the car scratching at the windows but making no headway. Jenna quickly raised her gun, firing two straight-shots, one each at the heads of the undead attempting to break into the car. She bolted to the car and practically threw herself inside of it, checking immediately on her daughter. "Baby, are you okay? Scott?"

Scott nodded, holding Caroline close to himself. The thirteen-year-old flung her thin arms around her mother's neck, embracing her.

"Caroline, you're shaking," Jenna said, thoroughly concerned as she stroked the back of her daughter's blonde locks. "You okay?"

Caroline sniffled, stifling back her frightful tears. "I was scared you and Uncle Merrill got into trouble," she breathed, her fingers clutching at her mother's back.

"We're right here, sweetie - _both_ of us." She had spoken two seconds too soon as Merrill entered the vehicle, quickly locking the doors behind him.

"And Grand-Da?"

Merrill shook his head and Caroline sobbed a bit harder, forcing her mother to hold her even closer. He was about to explain things when his cell phone began to ring. He was glad he had never owned a smartphone - he may not have received this call at all.

"Hello?" he said into the receiver.

"Where in the blue fuck _are_ you guys?!" a frantic, female voice shouted over the other end.

Merrill sighed, the kind that said that he was relieved to hear the woman on the other end. "Frankie - thank God."

"Fucking answer me, Merrill. Where are you guys?"

"We're at Da's office."

"Is he alright? Is he with you?"

"He's dead, Frankie."

"...Christ." A pause filled the air as Caroline finally calmed down and Jenna pulled a map out of the glove compartment. "So...are we leavin' town or what?"

"We're all packed and ready to go - me, Jenna, Scott, and Caroline. We grabbed a shit-ton of weapons and ammo from the office, too."

"Good. I've got Mal and Sam here with me and Clairanne's on her way with Philly."

"You're bringing your horse?"

"Shut the hell up. He's like family, and now that I know that Da's gone..."

"We are ready to leave whenever you all are."

"...Clairanne just pulled up in front of the store. We're gonna put Philly in the trailer attached to Sam's truck and then we're heading your way."

"ETA?"

"ASAP."

"Got it. We'll be here and we'll be ready."

"See you soon."

Merrill closed his phone - the outdated flip phone making a gentle 'click' - as he turned to look at Jenna. "Frankie's alright. She's got Mal and Sam. They're loading Sam's truck with supplies and then they'll be here."

"I heard her mention Clairanne. She's bringing her horse?"

"You know how our sister is with that horse."

Jenna nodded, unfolding the map of Georgia as she traced her finger along street routes to look for the proper exit. "The sun's already set, so outside of the city is our best option to get settled for the night."

"Are we gonna make camp?"

She shook her head. "That doesn't seem smart. We need to keep mobile until we _know_ it's safe to make a proper camp. The fact that Frankie has three others to bring along with us is good, but what about Bevin? Will? Are there others who will need to group with us?"

"Others?" Scott said, breaking his self-silence for the first time since before Jenna and Merrill had gone into the collection office. "You're not seriously considering letting freaks into our group? People may be _violent_, Jenna, just like that guy back in our neighborhood.

His wife nodded slowly. "I know. There _will_ be violent people, Scott, but that comes with the territory. We need to be prepared to let other survivors...well, survive."

"If they survive this, maybe they're better off on their own."

"That's awfully pessimistic."

"Well, you know me."

She rolled her wide baby-blues back into their lids. "Scott, being narrow-minded now is _not_ going to get us anywhere."

"Being too _open_-minded could get us _killed_."

"That's _exactly_ the kind of talk that'll - "

"Here they come," Merrill interrupted appropriately. All present looked out the windshield as a truck with its headlights on turned around the next street, heading in the opposite direction that their vehicle was currently parked. The truck pulled alongside the driver's side. Merrill rolled down the window as the truck came to a stop when their windows were aligned.

The truck's window rolled down to reveal Sam, the husband of their cousin Mallory, in the driver's seat. "We need to get outta dodge."

Jenna nodded, leaning over her brother slightly to look at her cousin-in-law properly. "Follow us out of town - we'll find somewhere remote for the night. Do you have enough gas?"

Sam checked the gauge and turned back to her. "Yeah, for now, but we'll need some more if we're planning on traveling."

"Alright. Let's get somewhere safe and we'll pool our resources and go from there."

Sam rolled the window back up and Merrill did the same.

"Where to?"

Jenna's eyes scanned the map once more. "Drive, Merrill. Get us the hell out of Atlanta."

Merrill shifted the car into gear and began to drive. Checking the mirrors, he breathed. "The truck is close behind us." A pause of silent stillness filled the vehicle as they headed towards the highways leading out of Atlanta.

"Take the back-roads. The interstate and freeway are probably jammed."

Turning off onto a lesser-taken road, all in the vehicle breathed a sigh of relief and were able to, finally, relax as they made their way outside of the city by avoiding all major traffickways and dodging the occasional infected person - or person_s_ - and over-turned towncar.

"I think we're all gonna be okay," Caroline said, leaning forward to perch her chin on her mother's shoulder and grab her hand for comfort.

"We _are_, baby," Jenna whispered, giving her daughter a sweet kiss on the cheek. Speeding down the roads ahead, the winding rocks led them to a small area near to a decent-sized quarry. "Let's stop in that clearing up ahead."

Merrill pulled into the clearing, the truck pulling up just behind them as several other cars whizzed on by, followed by a steady line of traffic on the run from the jammed highways. Turning off the ignition, all exited the car.

Jenna shoved her nine-mil' into the pocket of her jeans as she made her way towards the truck. "Are you guys okay?"

Frankie Sumner, the penultimate child in the Sumner line, hopped out of the passenger side of the truck, her cowboy boots crunching against the gravel as she slammed the door shut. Thin and above average in height, Frankie was quite lovely to behold, but was a complete and total asshole until you were gifted with the chance to know her, a chance she rarely handed out. Her hole-y acid-washed jeans were form-fitting to her slim figure and her lengthy, curly brunette locks had been messily tossed up into a loose ponytail.

Straight white teeth were revealed when she smiled and jogged to meet her sister. "Jenna!" she said more on an exhale than anything as she slung her rifle strap over her shoulder and pulled her older sister into a tight embrace. "Shit. I was so worried that you all didn't make it outta your neighborhood."

"We're fine - we're all fine." Jenna pulled back from the hug, straightening her shirt. "Da's gone, Frankie."

The rebel's usually stoic features softened. "Merrill told me."

"He didn't die before he left us with the key to putting these things out though." Merrill's voice cracked a bit as he came up to the small cluster that was forming.

"The key?" Sam repeated as he helped his wife out of the truck and led her towards their family.

Merrill nodded. "He wrote 'to the head' in his own blood on the floor. He put a couple of them down before we got there. Lena - "

"Lena?" Frankie knew exactly who Lena was. "Was she there?"

"She sure was - eating Da's back."

Her brother's words made the rock-hard Frankie quiver. "Fuck." Her emotions suddenly solidified into a sensible, precise verbage. "So what do we do now?"

Jenna crossed her arms. "We pool what we've got. Sam, Mal, what did you pack?"

Mallory placed a hand against her baby bump, the other tightly grasping her husband's fingers. "I grabbed some MREs, herbal supplements, water-purifying bottles, a shit-load of mason jars, and a whole bunch of practical items to make what we'll need out there."

"We can go looking for supplies first thing in the morning." Merrill was trying to help, but Frankie shook her head.

"Bro, we need to lay low for a few days until this hell slows down." She was firm, and her brother was attentive. "It'll be a shit-storm if we go out looking for supplies when the fleeing Atlanta citizens start riots."

"Riots are the next step." Jenna was clearly agreeing with her sister, but Merrill still seemed stuck on the idea of heading out in the morning.

"We don't know that." Merrill was standing his ground and wasn't about to let up.

"We _do_." Her brother seemed adamant, so Frankie was as well.

Jenna put her hands up. "Stop it. We need to make a list of what we have by way of supplies. Meager portions will have to get us through until things calm down."

"That could be weeks from now - " The tall, male Sumner brother was rudely cut short when the harrowing sounds of explosions rattled the bones of the clan standing so closely together. All eyes were wide and staring out of the mountains and towards Atlanta. The skyline of their city was suddenly lit up in random clusters as clouds of fire and smoke rose against the hazy night and cast shadows against the buildings. Helicopters circled around the outline of the city lines and fighter planes scurried off into the night as the sounds of gunfire echoed against the hills.

"Holy Santa Claus shit," Frankie breathed, locking her fingers behind her head. "They're dropping napalm now."

Mallory clung to her husband, her once free arm now circling him as she buried her face into his t-shirt. Sam held her as close to himself as humanly possible, his chin quivering visibly as he attempted to calm his pregnant wife.

Merrill draped an arm around his niece, patting her shoulder gently.

Jenna sighed and walked away from the sight before them, opening the side-door to the vehicle and grabbing their car bags to begin sifting through the items they had brought.

"What the fuck is happening?" Scott said as he approached his wife, frantic tones penetrating his voice.

Jenna was doing her best to remain calm. "The military is trying to eliminate the threat. They're doing what they think is best."

"So what are we supposed to do?"

"We do what Merrill suggested - we lay low for a few days until things calm down and then we figure it out from there." She could feel his eyes scanning her, studying her, _judging_ her. "Why are you not panicking?! Why aren't you sobbing or having an anxiety attack or something?!"

"Because I _can't_!" Jenna turned to face her husband, whipping around to look at him fiercely. "Look at Mallory - look at Caroline. They're scared, Scott, and that's fine. I can't be scared - not now. There are too many people depending on what I know how to do, what I'm capable of, and I can't freak out, I can't panic. Someone has to be in charge."

"Why does that have to be you?"

"Because I know too much. There are skills I have that are _vital_ to survival in a post-apocalyptic setting, and my siblings do, too. Others out there will be looking for help and we _have_ to help them."

"I don't understand."

She sighed, shaking her head. "No, you're right. You _don't_." She turned back to the vehicle.

Scott's face fell as something on her caught his eyes. "Jenna..." He turned her face back to look at him, a soft gasp leaving him as he noticing the dark blood against her face. "...shit. You've got blood on you."

"It's fine. It's not mine. It belongs to Lena."

"What happened out there?"

She averted his gaze at all costs, shrugging lightly. "My Da's dead, Bevin and Will are missing, and the world's going to hell. I'd call it the usual if it wasn't for the fact that it's everything _but_ the usual."

Scott grabbed the bandanna from his sack - the one she had been searching through - and dabbed his tongue against a bit of it, bringing it up to her face and scrubbing the coagulated substance from her skin. Her eyes looked up at her husband, calming down a bit at the realization that he hadn't been this gentle with her in years. "You're strong, Jenna. It's one of your most attractive traits."

She curled her arms around his waist and he put his arms around her shoulders. Her eyes watched as several buildings in Atlanta began to crumble to the ground and some were consumed by raging flames. She wondered where they would be if she hadn't known the information she did. She wondered who all wouldn't be standing in their motley little group, as well as who would be dead.

She pondered all of those still in Atlanta, including the two missing Sumner siblings. Truly, though, one question rattled her brain and dizzied her senses: _where do we start?_


	2. Too Risky

**A/N: **Now that I've started writing this story, I'm getting into the grooves of it all again. I really hope you, as a reader, are enjoying this - it's definitely a bit different of a work than I'm used to. Please let me know if you enjoy this story, or even if you have any feedback - I'd love to hear from my readers!

Jenna's eyelids burst open without another second to allow her to keep her eyes closed. She had fallen asleep on the back bench of the vehicle underneath a large blanket she was sharing with Caroline. The poor girl had gotten nightmares - understandably so - and truly needed her mother's comfort to get her through the night.

Jenna raked her fingers comfortingly through her daughter's blonde locks, their softness so familiar to her. She leaned in and pressed her lips to Caroline's temple, hearing her murmur in her sleep and readjust her legs. Her mother moved out from the blanket, slipping carefully away so as not to disturb her daughter and then moved directly outside, closing the door behind her as the morning dew began to settle on the grass.

Running her fingers back through her own dark lengths, Jenna shoved her hands into her sweater pockets and grabbed the yellow box of American Spirits that she found there. She removed a cigarette, placed it between her lips, and lit it up with a matchbox she kept in her pockets at all times. The first drag was mellow and she inhaled efficiently as she struggled to think. Of course, the smoldering remains from the fires of the Atlanta skyline weren't much of a help.

The chaos must have dissipated some time during the night, a fact that both enlightened her and terrified her because it was a sign of what was to come. So much lay ahead of them - so many responsibilities and formalities. Another drag cleared her head a bit and that's when she sat down on the gravel road, her eyes directed towards Atlanta.

"Hey," a male voice from behind her stated. When she turned to glance at the speaker, she saw that it was Sam.

"Good morning," she greeted, taking another drag.

Sam sat down next to her, his eyes taking in the view prior to sighing. "This is really something, huh?" She didn't answer, flicking her cigarette to release some of the collecting ashes. "It doesn't seem real."

"You're telling me?" She scoffed a bit and Sam clammed up for a moment. "I'm sorry, Sam. I don't mean to snap. I just...there are so many things we need to do."

"Is that why you're up? Brain couldn't shut off?"

Jenna shook her head. "I have too much to think about."

"You've always been like that - planning things so far ahead of the time they're needed."

"That's just it. This time, shit's going down _now_, so these ideas are ones we are going to need _today_."

Sam reached over and patted her back. "Of all my cousins, you're my favorite, so I'm glad you and yours made it out. We need you."

"That's what scares me."

"Don't let it. You're a natural, Jenna, and you have a great support system."

"Do I?"

"Frankie would do anything for you and Merrill has always had your back. Clairanne looks to you as a role model. Mal and I? Well, you already _know_ how much we love you and that we'll support you until the end."

"Thanks, Sam," Jenna thanked, leaning over and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I need my family now more than ever."

"Oh, God." This voice belonged to Frankie who was, at the moment, getting out of Sam's truck. "You two aren't gonna _hug_ or anything, right?"

Sam chortled, standing up from the ground and helping Jenna up as well. "Not at all," he answered.

"Good, because _ew_."

Jenna brushed herself off, watching as Scott, Merrill, and Caroline all exited their vehicles.

"Smoking, Ma?" Caroline questioned. She sounded more curious than accusatory.

Jenna nodded, moving over to give her daughter a hug. "Just one, baby. I just needed to clear my head."

"Thought a good night's sleep was always your clear-head remedy?" Scott mentioned, shoving his hands into his pocket. Glancing over at Merrill, Jenna caught him rolling his eyes, a reaction she definitely expected.

"Not in times like these."

Scott was about to say something else until Frankie cut him off.

"Alright, I've got the maps. We need to get a clear and definite destination." Jenna was proud that her sister was so eager to get going - that kind of attitude was something their group couldn't afford to lose. "Is there somewhere you had in mind?"

Merrill was the first to speak as he leaned over the hood of Sam's truck, spreading the maps across the hood. "There are plenty of national parks to the southwest portion of the state."

"Actually, bro, I wasn't asking you." Frankie's brow was raised as she stared at him before shifting her gaze to Jenna. "Jay?"

Jenna sighed, her eyes casting over the map. "Um, well, um..." With a bit of a shaky finger, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "...what about Allatoona Lake?"

"The vacation spot Mom and Da took us to for cookouts every Memorial Day?" Merrill asked.

Jenna nodded. "It's a large freshwater lake with plenty of room for us to make a decent camp."

Mallory folded her arms atop her blossoming belly after gesturing to her husband. "Sam and I grabbed supplies to help filter water and there is plenty of wildlife around there to hunt and to make all we need."

Frankie rested her fists on her hips, nodding slowly. "I'm also working on a tube-line filter to make a shower of sorts as well."

"Did you bring that shit with us?" Sam questioned, and when Frankie nodded, he sighed. "Good. We can tweak that once we get settled."

"Settled?" Scott repeated, squeezing into the small semi-circle around the hood of the truck.

Frankie shot him a look, one that said she couldn't believe he was asking for clarification. "Yes, Scott, or do you _seriously_ want to spend the rest of your fucking life inside of a goddamned car?"

"Frankie!" Jenna said, catching her sister's gaze long enough to mouth the word 'stop.'

"Can we _not_ begin fighting?" Mallory pleaded, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "Yelling about everything and poking fun and making sarcastic comments won't save lives. All that shit does is delay us from where we need to go and what we need to be doing. We can't waste time."

Sam wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulder, pulling her in closer and nodding softly.

"Mal's right," Merrill said, speaking up for the first time in a fair bit. "We can't fuck around - shit's gonna get really bad really quickly, so we need to move...now."

Jenna agreed wholeheartedly with her brother's decision to take charge. "Everybody back in the cars. We're moving out."

Clairanne nodded in Jenna's direction, a symbol of her acknowledgement, prior to moving over to Sam's truck.

Jenna slammed the door of the driver's side behind her, rubbing her temples as everyone else entered the vehicle. So much was swimming through her head, so many thoughts were pounding, pounding, pounding.

"You gonna be okay?" Merrill questioned once he had settled into the passenger seat.

"Ma, are we gonna be alright?" Caroline asked, leaning towards the front seats.

Jenna turned to look at her daughter before reaching back and squeezing her hands. "Yes, baby. We'll be just fine."

"Then let's get moving," Merrill said.

Jenna started the vehicle, and carefully, they began their trek towards a new settlement.

**::::**

"Oh, shit..." Jenna breathed, slowing to a complete stop at the sight of a traffic snarl on the hillside. The backroads had become completely stalled with stopped cars and angry folks.

"Jay," Frankie's voice said over a walkie-talkie she'd placed in the front center console, "what do we do now? There's no way around this knot."

"We can't go off-road for too long - these people will riot and panic and we can't afford to be around this."

"It's your call. We trust your judgment."

Jenna thought for a long moment. She considered the sight before her, the sparks of panic ready to ignite a full-fledged war. She thought of her family and of her pregnant cousin in the car behind them. Her thoughts were running rampant with what would happen if they chose to remain in their vehicles and wait this out. That's when she made her decision.

"Turn around and head back. We'll try and find another way."

"Jay, Clairanne's been looking over the maps...straight ahead is the quickest way to Allatoona. The only other option is on-foot."

"Dammit," Merrill breathed, resting his forehead against the dashboard.

"Is she _sure_ that's the best way?"

"That's it. Walking is the only other option without risking going back to Atlanta."

"…then I guess we'll have to go on foot."

Merrill glanced over at his sister, eyes wide. "You're shitting me."

"No, I'm not."

"You think that's best?" Scott asked from the back seat. "If those infected whatever-they-are things decide to group up and wander the woods, who's to say we won't run into a huge group of them and be ripped apart?!"

"We're gonna be ripped apart?!" Caroline asked, panic cracking her voice mid-sentence.

"No, baby. Jesus, Scott—why did you have to say that? On foot is the best option. We're well-prepared, we have plenty of supplies. The biggest issue is that we have vehicles. We can't keep trekking along—gas is sparse enough as it is, and we can't risk getting out there and losing all of our gas and having to go on-foot anyway." She paused and a silence filled the car. "We're better off finding a stable living quarter if we trek out on our own, away from the roads and highways and clusterfucks that are jamming up the people trying to figure out what the fuck they're going to do next."

Merrill thought for a few moments about what she'd said, coming to his own conclusions that she was correct. They _had_ to make the journey away from the vehicles.

"You're right." He sighed and grabbed the walkie-talkie, pressing the button on the side. "Frankie, you there?"

A few seconds later, a half-second of static let them know that she was responding. "Yep, I'm here. What's up?"

"Jenna's made a decision. We're going to go off-road and walk to Allatoona."

A long silence filled the spaces between the four bodies in the vehicle as they waited for a response. "She's right. With our supplies and know-how—"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Just stop somewhere and we'll be ready, alright?"

"Copy that."

**::::**  
**::::**

"I still don't like this," Scott stated as they all exited the vehicle.

"Nobody asked _you_, Scott," Frankie snapped, placing another emergency pack into her backpack.

"Everybody needs to have one backpack full of things except for Mallory, obviously," Jenna instructed, making sure her own back was packed and that her weapons were loaded and at-hand. "Clairanne, how's your horse lookin'?"

Clairanne patted the mane of her horse, nodding gently. "He's pretty well-loaded with shit. Can't bog 'im down too much or else I can't ride 'im."

"True enough." Jenna circled around the animal, her eyes scanning him. "If he gets bitten or scratched – "

"I know." Her voice was already brash by nature, but her words at that moment were dark and full of knowing. "Treat 'im like we would if he was human."

Jenna nodded, a sympathetic gaze shared between the pair. She patted the other woman's back gently and moved on, understanding that Clairanne was a woman of few words. She more than comprehended how difficult keeping a horse on-the-move would be, but it was Clairanne's responsibility, a fact Jenna was sorely aware of.

"Ma," Caroline beckoned to her mother as she knotted the straps of her Army-issued backpack, "is this okay?"

Jenna scanned the pack, smiling at her daughter to let her know of a job well-done. "It looks great, baby. As long as it's still comfortable for you, that's what matters." Stroking her daughter's hair lightly, her smile quickly faded. "You got that knife I gave you?"

Caroline nodded, lifting her t-shirt a few inches to show her mother that she had holstered the weapon to her hip, the jack-knife parallel with her leg. "Right here."

"That's my girl." Jenna stooped slightly, pressing her lips into the crown of Caroline's head, her blonde waves tousled in her loose bun. The self-affirmed leader faced the group as everyone finished readying themselves. Clairanne was finishing the straps on her horse's saddle. Mallory was assisting Sam in tightening the straps on his pack just-so. Caroline was ready and waiting. Frankie stood next to Merrill, both siblings displaying assuring expressions for their sister. Scott was off to the side, his eyes darting about the landscape, his nervousness showing through.

"Everyone, this won't be easy. None of it is. Life now is survival-of-the-fittest. That means we need to look out for each other, to have each other's backs all the time, not just when we feel like it. This group is our family now, and family comes first. If one of us fails, we all fail. Everyone has a special purpose in this group, and once we actually find a place to settle into, that'll become clear. Mallory's pregnant, so everyone needs to watch her and help her if she looks like she needs help. Everyone is required to be armed at all times from this point forward – knives are a must, guns are a plus. Frankie and I each have machetes of our own. Merrill is in charge of the weaponry and ammunitions. Food inventories will be calculated at the end of each day, and we'll make sure that everyone has a full canteen of water. Stay hydrated. If you feel sick, say something. If you think we're going too quickly, speak up. Other than that, keep the noise level to a minimum – whispers are fine. Anything above a whisper needs to be the most important thing you've fucking thought of all day." She paused, folding her arms across her chest. "We need to stick together – no one goes off alone, not for any reason. Use your best judgment." Taking a breather, she stopped. "Any questions?"

No one flinched. None said a word. Every person in the group remained silent for several long moments, their pregnant pauses radiating with the fear they all felt.

"We can do this," Caroline stated encouragingly.

Jenna half-grinned, draping her arm around her daughter's shoulders. "Let's move out."


	3. Better Now

**A/N:** I love this story so, so much. Also, as of today, there are currently **10** days left until the premiere of Season 5! I'm honestly so pumped. I can't wait! So, without further stalling, here is chapter three. Enjoy, and don't forget to review!

**::::**  
**::::**

_Five days later. Still on the road. Food: good. Water: good. Mallory: still pregnant. Scott: still complaining. Schizophrenia medication pill-count: 10. Morale is intermediary._

Within the past several days, very few undead folk had been spotted or, at the worst-case, had even crossed paths with Jenna and her group. Those that did were quickly disposed of by Frankie, Merrill, and Jenna. Sam had nearly been overcome by one, but Clairanne popped a round into the attacker's skull without a second thought. Mallory had been on-edge since then, her hip proverbially gluing itself to her husband's side for fear that such an instance may happen again. Fortunately for her, Sam had learned from his hesitancy and would never do so again.

Their food-stores were holding up, given that the amount of exercise in the Georgia heat was quite literally sucking their energy up day by day. Jenna cautioned the group that wearing shorts at a time like this would make life a bit simpler - at the very least, more ventilated - but would expose more skin that could prove to be more dangerous. She instructed everyone to wear long pants and shoes with ties. Any shoes with velcro fastenings or laces that were just for show were discarded almost immediately.

Besides that, everyone was using their best judgment in the volume of their voices and in the amount of complaining they were doing.

Scott, on the otherhand, took to being stoic as a device of punishment against his wife. Jenna figured that this was probably because he was suddenly feeling extremely inferior to his wife with leadership power over the group, but she shoved aside such thoughts and, instead, ignored his silence and focused on the big picture: making it to Peachtree City.

The Allatoona Lake idea had gone out the window the night of their first on-foot outing, figuring that fifty-some-odd miles was too far of a reach, so, instead, they changed their minds and headed for Peachtree City, a small area just south of Atlanta, a distance of about thirty miles. There was a freshwater lake there, too, so this was voted on by all and all were in agreement that this was a much more reachable goal. So far, they had travelled a distance of around ten miles, which wasn't too bad considering the heat and the fact that one among their group was in the beginning stages of her third trimester.

"We need to find a place to camp for the night," Frankie suggested, speaking a low-volumed voice to her sister as she came near.

Jenna nodded, her eyes still scanning her surroundings, now a consistent habit with her, but a good habit nonetheless. "I agree," she said. "Why don't you skip on ahead a bit and see if you can spot a good clearing or something?"

"Yes, ma'am." Her tone wasn't necessarily condescending, but Jenna rolled her eyes anyway.

"Frankie, be careful."

Frankie turned her head and nodded before catching up with Clairanne. She nudged her elbow into the side of the other female and nodded her head in the direction just before them. Understanding her friend's silence, Clairanne accompanied Frankie as the pair branched off to look for a good place to make camp.

_Later that night. Morale on-the-rise. Four tents set up in the midst of a clearing. All are quieted. Mallory is faintly crying to herself inside of her tent and Sam is consoling her to the best of his abilities. Frankie is on-watch and Clairanne is resting up for her shift. Merrill is speaking in hushed tones with Caroline about the proper handling of a machete._

Jenna glanced out of her mesh-made window in her tent, eyeing the others as she began to undress for sleep. She seethed a bit, a scrape on her side from the previous day stinging a bit as she pulled her flannel shirt from the raw wound. The material had dried with the congealing blood, a fact that reopened her scrape a bit.

"That looks like shit," Scott commented as he entered the tent, crossing the tarp flooring to be closer to his wife. He assisted her in removing the rest of her shirt and stooped a bit to look at the bloody area.

"Thanks," Jenna threw out sarcastically, reaching for a large pad of gauze and the medical tape. "Do you think you could...?"

Scott nodded, immediately taking the items from her and kneeling to get a better angle. "You _did_ remember to flush this out earlier, right?"

Jenna rolled her eyes. "Yes, Scott. We have peroxide. I cleaned it before so that it wouldn't get infected."

"Just makin' sure. Can't be too careful out here."

"No shit." She could hear her husband sigh and she relinquished her bratty attitude. "I'm sorry, Scott. I don't mean to snap. I'm just on-edge."

"I know." Scott finished taping the gauze over her wound and patted it in, just enough to allow the material to seep into the speckles of blood. "You're gonna have terrible days, Jenna. That comes with the leadership territory."

Jenna turned to face him, pulling her crumpled shirt over her bra to conceal her cleavage from his eyes. "It's harrowing, but if not me, who?"

Scott shrugged, his eyes glancing down at her shirt, now covering her rather beautiful chest. "It has to be you."

She knew he was right, but admitting something like that sounded too much like pride to her. Her gaze met Scott's sympathetically. "How's your head?"

He frowned. The previous day, he had suffered a terrible relapse from his medication, and after taking a pill, he had a migraine for the rest of the day. Jenna knew that he was running out of pills. If his attacks were to become more frequent and more dangerous, he would be out of medication within a week.

"I'm better now, thanks." He shifted a bit closer to her, reaching up to take hold of the shirt in her hands and let it drop to the floor. "Why don't you want me to look at you?"

Jenna shrugged her shoulders, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. "Because that's not what we're about. You don't look at me like that, and I don't look at you like that."

"Like an invasion of privacy?" When she nodded, Scott shook his head, his feeble but broad hands cupping her face as if he'd break her. "Jenna, we're _married_ and we have a daughter together. I've looked at you like that for years - you've never looked back."

Jenna's features softened, the harsh realization of their sham-marriage hitting her full-force. Scott truly loved her as a wife, or, at the very least, respected her enough to be honest in telling her that he was still attracted to her like he had been the night they conceived of Caroline.

Pulling her ever-so-gently closer, Scott closed the gap between them with the sealing of his lips to hers. His mouth was firmer, more intense, than Jenna recalled as she kissed him back. Since that wonderful night thirteen years ago, Jenna hadn't felt a single spark with her husband, nothing that gave her butterflies or kept her wanting more. She had never felt that way about anyone, truthfully, so the ability to admit to her husband that her one-night stand with him was simply that would never come to her.

She pulled back, her hands squeezing his wrists sweetly before she moved away from his grasp and to the window.

"Caroline," she hoarse-whispered through the mesh, catching her daughter's attention immediately, "it's time for bed."

Caroline said her sleep-wells to her uncle before skipping off to the tent she shared with her parents. A gentle smile was shared between her and her father before she climbed onto the cot she and Jenna slept on and removed her boots.

"Boots outside the tent, baby," Jenna reminded her daughter.

"Right," Caroline said brightly, suddenly remembering the instruction as she moved her boots to just outside the tent flaps. "Sorry."

"It's okay. We're not used to sleeping like civilized people anymore. Plus, think of it this way: whatever shit we pick up on the bottoms of our shoes will never be smeared around our clean items inside the tent. We have no clue what's out there that could be infected, too."

Caroline nodded as her mother spoke, soaking the information into her spongy brain as she smiled. "You're right, Ma. You always are about survival shi - "

"Watch your tongue."

Caroline gasped slightly. "Whoops...sorry. I didn't mean to."

"It happens, pumpkin," Scott said, stooping to give his daughter a kiss on the forehead before climbing onto his own cot at the far side of the tent.

"Naughty words can lead to naughty deeds," Jenna stated wisely as she moved over to the cot and climbed in just behind her daughter, wrapping her arms around her. "I love you, Caroline."

"I love you, Ma. Love you, Da."

"Love you, too, pumpkin."

"Goodnight."

**::::**

_That same night. Somewhere in the woods. Frankie and Clairanne are out scouting the territory._

"Some bullshit, this is," Clairanne huffed in a low-volume tone as the pair moved through the darkness together.

Frankie scoffed, glancing through a shadow at her old friend. "What's bullshit?"

"This. All of this 'world coming to an end' bullshit. It's nonsensical."

Frankie chortled to herself, eyes ever-watchful for the undead as they well-knew that these being were far more active, more aggressive, in the night-time. "How can the apocalypse be shit? It's not exactly like a hoax - we're out here living it every day, and you call it bull."

Clairanne sighed, catching herself before she nearly tripped on her own two feet and fell flat on her face in the leaves. "I _know_ it's not a hoax, Frankie. I'm just sayin' that this isn't exactly how I planned to go down."

Frankie nodded regardless of the fact that she knew Clairanne wasn't looking, and also that a subtle nod was not exactly the most visible of gestures in pitch-black forest surroundings. "I don't think this is how _anyone_ planned on dyin'."

A low grumble echoed nearby and the faint snapping of twigs and crunching of leaves rang alarm bells against Frankie's eardrums. She braced herself, machete at-the-ready and Clairanne at her elbow just in case it turned out to be more than just a lone oddball.

Rounding a near tree, they could see the outline of a stumbling being as it groaned its way through the landscape. Frankie figured that she could be agile and kill it quickly and as silently as possible before any others in the area could hear it.

Bearing in on the figure, she could clearly make out that this person was, in fact, an infected person. Gangly arms reached for her at the sight of warm flesh. Frankie grinned, her instincts readying to strike. She raised her arm, machete in-hand, and was half a flinch away from beheading the thing with one - okay, maybe _two_ - swift strokes, and that's when the unthinkable happened.

Another blade struck the creature from the back of the skull, the curved blade stabbing clear through the head and out the forehead. Frankie was awestruck - Clairane hadn't brought a blade. The blade allowed dark blood to gore from the wound as a terrible crunching sound affected the removal of the blade. The blade was that of an axe, and its owner was completely unfamiliar.

The axe was gripped tightly by a man, a man clearly skilled with such a weapon, as he must belong to a more fearless disposition. He was taller than Frankie by an inch or two, had a lean build, and a different face. Piercing blue eyes set on an oval face with a slightly dimpled chin and a striking nose shape were all complimented by the man's grown-out clean cut of brown hair. He was, in a word, handsome. He was also under the sights of Frankie's Glock.

"Whoa, hey!" the man said in shock as the gun was aimed directly for him. He raised his arms in surrender, eyeing the woman in front of him suspiciously. "Pretty sure I saved your life just now, yeah?"

Frankie was not amused with the man's smooth British accent. "I can handle myself."

"Oh, yeah, clearly. Letting a Biter come right up to ya and nearly rape ya is surely handlin' yourself."

Frankie placed her triggerfinger into the slotted position. "I _will_ shoot you, Lymie bastard, if you don't shut the fuck up."

"Fine. Done."

"Who _are _you? Why the hell are you in these woods?"

"Same as you, I reckon - tryin' to survive any way we can."

"_We_?"

"Frankie," Clairanne stated gruffly, handling another fellow by the lapels of his coat as she yanked him towards the man and shoved her captive forward. "Found this fucker leering at you with his one good eye."

"Don't mock me," the other man said, his voice and build eerily similar to the other man. Clearly, they were twins, and that gave Frankie the willies. "It's an old battle wound."

"What is?" Clairanne demanded.

"He's blind in one eye," Frankie's captive spoke up. "Has been ever since we were kids."

"I'm sorry, brother," the twin said to his brother. "I stayed back once I'd spotted 'em. Wanted to keep an eye out in case they tried anythin'."

"Ya see how well _that_ fuckin' worked, don't ya?" The man turned his head to face Frankie once more. "So, your name's Frankie? That's a nice name - ain't heard it for ages."

"I like it just fine," the bold Sumner girl half-growled through gritted teeth. "Who the fuck are _you_ two?"

"Lower the gun and we'll talk."

Frankie almost laughed. "Not on your life."

The man's brow rose. "Listen, Frankie, we're never gonna get anywhere until we can all act like damn human beings, yeah? We're tryin' to survive, same as you. That's all. Who says we can't get acquainted?"

"_She_ did, just now," Clairanne said, her own gun aimed at the pair of men as she stalked towards them a bit. The man she'd grabbed cowered slightly, obviously very intimidated by the blonde-haired huntress' presence.

"Clairanne," Frankie stated, narrowing her eyes at the man. "He's right. _We_ can get acquainted, but we'll let Bleeding Sumner decide what to do with 'em." Clairanne sneered, lowering her gun and holstering it.

The man's brow now furrowed. "Who's 'Bleeding Sumner'?" he asked.

Frankie smirked, but she allowed for his question to remain unanswered for the time-being. "I'm Frankie, as you well-know by now, and this is Clairanne. We're part of a larger group of survivors."

"Why're you out tonight without them?"

"We're scoutin' ahead, checking the path for dangers and for the best places to walk unheard."

The man nodded, clearly impressed by their strategy of stealth. "My group has been taught not to worry about making much noise. If we draw them in, great - better to see how they handle in a tight fix."

"Sounds cruel."

"Logical to me, he is," the twin said, aiming that mostly in Clairanne's direction to appear to be more intimidating than he obviously was.

"So who are you?"

"Chad Puckle."

Frankie snickered. "Doesn't suit you. 'Lymie bastard' seems more your speed."

Chad removed a bandanna from his pocket, wiping the coagulated blood from the blade of his axe. "Fuck that." He sighed. "This, here, is my brother Chip."

"'Thing Two,'" Clairanne chipped in with a wry smile.

Chad pretended to ignore that statement. "Like this Bleeding Sumner you speak of, I run a group myself."

"Alone?"

He nodded and continued. "Somebody had to. These people needed training and unification."

"And _you_ are the one to give it to them?"

Chad's eyes met Frankie's with a dire sincerity. "I was just tryin' to help." This, amazingly, silenced her sarcastic comments. "We have one older lady, a middle-aged man, a middle-aged woman, and the rest vary in age from nineteen to thirty-six."

"Where are they now?"

"A bit of a distance behind us. I grouped us all up and we pooled weapons and resources before getting the hell out of Atlanta."

"You've been in the city?"

Chad sighed. "Wouldn't dare go there. Nah, we met up in the suburbs just before they collapsed on themselves. I did what I could." He paused, shoving the bandanna back into his pocket. "So, your group - you wouldn't mind addin' others, wouldya?"

Frankie lifted her gaze for a moment, thinking about this intently. Truthfully, she knew that Jenna would ponder this for a little while but would, eventually, allow them to stay. She knew that with masters-at-arms like Frankie and Merrill and with Mallory's skill at naturalistic skills, expanding the group was probably more of a plus than a negative.

Frankie crossed her arms and sighed helplessly. "Ultimately, it's not my group, so it's not my decision. We'll leave that to Sumner."

"Is he capable of making such a decision?"

"Yes, as it happens. _She_ is."


	4. Fair

**A/N:** I have begun my rewatch today. From "Days Gone Bye" to "A," I will be entirely rewatched before the season 5 premiere on Sunday! I am so completely pumped for this!

**::::**  
**::::**

_Back in the camp. All is quiet. All are silent. Jenna awakes to a chilly night air and can't get back to sleep_.

Jenna slipped her nearest t-shirt over her head and slipped her arms through the holes in her jacket. She just needed enough warmth to keep a barrier between herself and the brisk air of the night. She closed the flaps of their tent and exited, slipping her boots on before stepping towards the nearest tree to lean against.

Mallory and Sam were silent in their tent, a sure-fire sign that they were well-asleep. Jenna had left Caroline sleeping peacefully on their cot, warmly tucked beneath their blanket. Scott was snoring before she had zipped the tent shut. She rather enjoyed the silence of the night.

Merrill was nearby, his post firmly held as he kept watch. Jenna made her way over to him, zipping her jacket halfway up.

"Hey," she spoke as quietly as possible, keeping her voice low so that she couldn't be overheard.

"Lines are secure. Everything is peaceful."

"That's a relief." She sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "Frankie and Clairanne aren't back yet?"

Merrill shook his head. "No sign of them. They should've been back by now. I'd go out and look for them, but by the time I do that, they'll be back and you can stop worryin'."

"It's dark out, Merrill. You and I both know that, in the darkness, an expedition drops everyone's life expectancy - "

" - to zero, I know." Merrill glanced over at his sister and nudged her playfully. "They'll be fine, Jenna. I'm sure of it."

Jenna nodded after a moment of silence. "I'm fine. I just wish they'd get - "

"Jenna!" Clairanne said from nearby, jogging to where her leader and Merrill were standing. "Hey."

"Where the hell have you two been?" Merrill questioned, receiving a stern eye-roll from the blonde.

"We were out in the woods, asshole." She turned her blue hues to meet Jenna's. "Frankie's in the clearing yonder. There's, uh, somethin' you should see."

**::::**

_Yonder clearing_. _Jenna follows Clairanne to it, weapon out and ready, preparing her for, what she hopes isn't, the worst._

"Why the clearing?" Jenna questioned as she trailed behind the apt and capable blonde.

"Frankie couldn't risk it. It was all too risky to drag them - "

" - _them_? What the hell did you two bring back here?"

Clairanne stopped, facing Jenna for a moment. "Take a look for yourself."

Jenna peered into the small clearing just up ahead. She could see Frankie's outline against the moonlight and made her way to her sister. "Frankie, what the hell is going on?"

Frankie approached her sister, her face stern, but full of promise. "Don't get pissy with me, Jay," she said, her tone actually pleading. "I did what I could, but these people need a place, a safe place and a chance to keep on living."

Jenna could hear a small group of people approaching - she didn't need her eyes to tell her that much. She sighed, her eyes remaining on Frankie. "Frankie, how many of them are there?"

Frankie thought for a moment. "Thirteen. Six women, seven men. Three above the age of fifty. They're all healthy and willing to pitch in."

Jenna thought for a moment, pondering what ramifications would arise from allowing newcomers into the group. She thought of what Caroline would say if she were there, her bleeding heart reaching out to those who, in her eyes, deserved just as much of a chance as their already established group did. Another sigh escaped her lips.

"Why are you suddenly all-for new people joining in on what we've done? We've only just made ourselves safe, Frankie. Why are you now an advocate for survivors?"

Frankie cracked a gentle smile as the group approached them. "You'll never believe who we found amid these people..." Gesturing to the approaching group, all seemed a bit tired.

Jenna's eyes scanned the cluster of survivors, her eyes falling onto a particular figure who caught her attention. Auburn hair. Thin frame. Loose ponytail. An oversized henley shirt, skinny jeans, and boots. Another auburn-haired figure beside her. Taller. Leaner. Muscled biceps peeking underneath the hem of a white t-shirt. Dog-tags around his neck. Military cut. There were only two people in her world with looks like theirs, and Jenna's heart sunk.

"Bevin...Will..." she exhaled, a smile crossing her lips as she jogged to meet her older sister and younger brother, enveloping both of them into her arms simultaneously. The tears began to flow from both women as they embraced. "My God - we thought you were lost."

Bevin shook her head, loose tendrils of flaming hair framing her narrow face as she pulled back, slender hands cupping her dark-haired sibling's freckled, tear-stained face. "We're _fine_," she said, the coo of her voice confirming that they were not a hallucination. "I was with Will when everything went to shit."

Will nodded. "She was with me," he affirmed, his deep voice giving Jenna hope. "We're fine - just fine. These people took us in, let us survive with 'em."

Jenna smiled, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "I'm thankful. I owe them." She gestured with her head in the direction of their camp. "Follow me, y'all. We'll take roll in the morning."

**::::**

Jenna refused to lay eyes on the newcomers until the sun rose. Regardless, she couldn't get to sleep again, not under the knowledge that her brother and sister were alright after all. She stayed awake, inventories recounted with Frankie and with Clairanne. They wanted to make certain that the supplies that they currently had. Once Mallory and Sam were awake, she was able to take a more accurate calculation for projection counts.

"We need to keep moving - that much is clear," Jenna mentioned in a huddle between herself, Clairanne, Merrill, and Sam. Frankie was busy assisting Mallory with a few things. "We have doubled our group and then-some, so we need to be more rational with decisions and in plans."

"I agree," Merrill chimed in. "I want to be able to train all those who haven't handled weapons before. Every one of the new people will be put onto the watch list. It's our responsibility, and if they want to remain in our group, it's theirs, too."

"Y'all got that right," Clairanne added.

"Mallory and I will continue making our homemade concoctions and finding edibles from nature, but we'll need to make sure that we have enough tents and enough gear for each of these people," Sam suggested, to which the others agreed.

"Noted," Jenna said, taking a note on her notepad. "I'll go introduce our group and lay out the rules for them. Meanwhile, Clairanne, talk to Frankie and see how many people will need to be placed in each tent. Merrill, check guns and ammo, not weapons. We'll deal with that part later - they'll need gun training no matter what. Sam, go be with your wife. I know her back is bothering her today."

Breaking apart, the members of it moved on to their assigned stations, each of them doing exactly as Jenna had instructed.

Meanwhile, she crossed the crunching ground beneath her boots towards her tent as her daughter and her husband emerged.

"Good morning," Caroline greeted, her tender voice still a bit groggy. Her wide eyes opened even moreso upon sighting the group of strangers. "Who are they?"

"Why is there a group of people we don't know in our camp?" Scott inquired.

Jenna explained. "Frankie and Clairanne found them all during the night. I'd object, normally, but these people had Bevin and Will - they're alive and they're well. I feel like I owe these people something. I owe it to them to give them a chance."

Caroline looked past her mother, eyes scanning the strangers. "So, who are they?"

Jenna stuck out her hand to take her daughter's into her own. "Let's find out, okay?"

With a bright smile, the brunette thirteen-year-old took her mother's hand and walked with her towards the cluster of unfamiliar faces.

The motley crue eyed their new leader with a strange kind of complacency.

"My name's Jenna Sumner," she began. "This is my daughter Caroline, and the man back there is my husband Scott. This is our group. You've already met Frankie, and you've known my sister and brother for a time, so I hear." The group seemed to cower as a collective, all save for a select few. Jenna took a mental note of this. "We do things more organized than you're probably used to. We run a tight machine around here, and, if you're wantin' to stick around, each of you needs to do your part." When Merrill came near, Jenna gestured to him. "This is Merrill, my brother. He is in charge of weapons and ammunitions - he also decides who needs gun training and the watch list. Each of you will be put onto that list, and that's non-negotiable. Are we agreed?" The silence spoke volumes. "I'm gonna take roll. I don't know any of you, so I'll need to meet each and every one of you personally, assess strengths and weaknesses and determine who will live with whom. That, too, isn't negotiable."

**::::**

_A single line holds each newcomer. Jenna is poised to meet each one of them and make judgment calls based on testimonies from both Bevin and Will_.

"First up, you," Jenna said, gesturing to the young woman in the front of the line to step forward.

The young woman did, nodding politely as she made her move to be closer to Jenna's position. She was smallish in frame, but had a striking appearance. She almost had the look of a Navajo Indian, a woman of both hispanic and Native American origins. Her eyes were a beautiful brown and her teeth straight, white, perfect.

"And you are?"

The woman cleared her throat. "Evie. I'm Evie - "

" - last name isn't necessary, Evie." Jenna could sense that the girl was nervous - wringing hands and white knuckles proving her to be correct. "Relax. I promise that I don't bite, but I can't speak for the infected."

Evie placed her hands behind her back. "I'm trying to. I'm always a bit tense."

"Start by telling me your strengths. Is there anything about you that I should know of - allergies, diseases of any kind, special talents - "

"I'm fluent in eight languages." Jenna was silenced for a moment.

"I'll keep that in mind. How about weapons - are you trained?" Evie shook her head and Jenna wrote that down onto her notepad. "Thanks, Evie. If I need anything else, I'll send for you." Evie half-curtsied before biting her thumbnail and walking away.

"She's a sweet girl," Bevin commented. "Smart as a tack. I'm sure she'll be more willing to help once she relaxes."

"Let's hope so. Next?"

A man stepped forward. Handsome and tall, this man couldn't have been much older than Scott. His glasses were well-suited to his disposition, and even at that moment, he removed them and wiped them off on the hem of his sweater.

"First name only."

"Todd," he answered, his voice warm and gentle. "I'm a divorced man trying to survive with his brother-in-law. Things you should know? I'm, uh, I'm legally blind."

"Without your glasses?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Let's make sure you don't lose 'em, yeah? That's all, Todd."

Bevin folded her arms across her chest. "Todd's good, strong, healthy - he's been handling basic knives for a while, but he could use gun training."

Jenna proceeded to interview each one of the remaining newcomers. Her recorded stats for them were as-follows after Evie and Todd:

3.) _Zeke. Mid-thirties. Easily defensible. Already has basic gun training. Wields a long-handled hatchet. Calculating (left-handed). Group-oriented. Bevin says he's smart. Will thinks he's capable._

4.) _Jem. Older, but not old. Reminds me of Mom. Cheery. Handy. Retired State Trooper. Weapons training unnecessary. Missing a lung. Uses inhalers and techniques to strengthen her remaining lung. Bevin thinks she's strange. Will thinks she's not worth a dime._

5.) _Minnie. Beautiful, but looks can be deceiving. Former professor of the Classics in Wales. Welsh disposition. Blonde like Clairanne, but much more feminine. I think she has eyes for Todd. Willing to learn. Requires all survival training skills. Fast-learner. 'Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure' is tattooed on the inside of her left wrist - good to see a Harry Potter fan around here. Bevin thinks that Minnie is a femme fatale. Will thinks she's a diva._

6.) _Sid. Handsome. Serious, but not overbearing. Possible dark past. Worked in a sporting goods store. Very familiar with knives - possibly a bladesmith. Seems more skilled than he lets on. Bevin wants to fix him up with Clairanne. Will thinks that there are too many similarities between the match to work out._

7.) _Miriam. Old. Not capable of much. Gifted seamstress. Believes in past lives and reincarnation, but also believes this outbreak to be the wrath of God. Superstitious. Pacifistic. Untrained. Bevin doesn't like her much. Will finds her to be more of a hindrance than a help._

8.) _Kahlan. Young. Feisty. Eager to learn - almost __too__ eager. Impulsive. Headstrong. Needs some taming. Training will come easily for her. Bevin thinks she's too on-the-job to be much of a help. Will finds her attractive. I think it's the red hair._

9.) _Giles. Former professor of logic and philosophy at the metropolitan college in the city. Logical, of course. Perhaps too ethical. Is not accustomed to the harsh realism of our existence now. Bevin thinks he adds a balance to the group. Will thinks that he reads too much into things._

The last two to be interviewed by Jenna were the Puckle twins. She immediately took to Chad, finding him to be a good match for the leadership the people he led required at the time, though she wasn't surprised in the least when he was excited at the prospect of forfeiting his lead.

His brother, on the other hand, was far too boisterous in the fact that he preferred to stay within the camp confines, not good at weaponry and far too cowardly for his own good. Jenna didn't like that, but she couldn't force him to do anything. She had suspicions about him, but kept those thoughts to herself.

She assigned tents to those she interviewed, matching them to one or two others who would be able to live together comfortably. Zeke, Todd, and Minnie were placed into the first tent. Kahlan, Sid, and Jem were placed into another. Giles and Miriam took another. Evie was put with Clairanne, and Bevin would, of course, bunk with Will.

Frankie was not at all pleased to learn that both of the Puckle twins would be boarding with her.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," she said, abrasively approaching her sister. "Why are they staying with me?"

Jenna shrugged her shoulders. "Everyone's having to make sacrifices, okay? Merrill has to move in with Sam and Mallory just so we have enough tents. Even Clairanne now has a roommate. You're not getting special treatment, sis."

Frankie stormed off, wanting to make sure that her preferred room in the tent of three rooms was still all to herself. Entering her lodging, she was not surprised to find the brothers moving their things into the tent.

"I'm guessing you want the far room, yeah?" Chad asked, keeping his tone certain but serious.

Frankie's eyes narrowed. "You two can argue however fucking much you need to. Where my bed is is where I'll sleep. If either of you tries anything, or even _thinks_ about trying anything, I swear to God - "

"Don't worry, Toots," Chip snickered. "I ain't even interested."

"Shut up, you colossal asshat," Chad snapped, turning back to Frankie. "We won't bother you. Scout's honor."

"You were a boy scout?"

Chad grinned. "Not at all. I just like the phrase."

Frankie rolled her eyes, slipping into her section of the tent to turn on her boombox and attempt to find a radio signal of any kind.

Chad watched her, his eyes fascinated by the fact that her radio was still working. "How is that possible? Are there batteries in that thing?"

Frankie shook her head, eyes fixated solely on the dial as she turned it to and fro. "No. Clairanne invented solar-powered batteries. I charge it in the daytime, run it in the night. Works just fine."

Chad was fully impressed. "Clairanne doesn't strike me as the genius type."

"Smartest damn blonde this side of the Mississippi. Don't underestimate her."

"I won't from here-on-out. I swear. She exceeds expectations...as do you all."

Frankie stopped turning the dials, her eyes meeting his for a moment and narrowing as she thought through what he'd said. "Was that actually a compliment? I didn't think Lymie bastards were capable of saying kind things."

Chad's expression became solemn. "I'm sorry if I offended you. You all have been more than gracious in integrating us into your already established collective. I think it's only fair that - "

"_Fair_? You're fucking with me, right?"

"No, I - "

"Since when is any of this _fair_ anymore? The world went to hell in a hand-basket, in case you haven't noticed. People are _dying_, are being _infected_, and with what? Death. We're forced to try and live through this shit every single day to the best of our fucking capabilities, but, in the end, we're all extinct. We will all die in the end, or we'll become _un_dead. Either way, we'll end, so, please, explain to me how any of this is fucking fair."

Chad could hear the emotion backing her words, though he couldn't decipher much outside of a twitch from her face. "Listen, Frankie, if you need to cry or something, I won't judge you - "

"Cry?" Frankie scoffed out a kind of dark chuckle, her eyes meeting his with a difference in clarity. "I haven't shed a single damn tear since shit went down. My father was killed by the infected. I haven't cried over him. I haven't cried over what could've been. No tears have even come into my eyes. That well is dried up." She shook her head, a sick kind of sneer twisting her lovely features. "Piss off." With that, she pulled the divider to her section closed and shoved the radio aside, leaving Chad to a stunned silence he'd never experienced before.

Frankie had that effect on people sometimes.


End file.
